“So, what are you, exactly?” Ivor’s voice carried over the steady creak of the wagon, breaking the rhythmic sound of hooves and wheels cutting through the endless sea of golden grass.
Vivienne, hitched to the wagon in her lesser wolf form, turned her lupine head toward him without breaking stride. Her sleek, obsidian-black fur glimred faintly under the sunlight, and the spines along her back rose and fell with the motion of her powerful legs. She humd thoughtfully, her tail swishing in ti with her movents. “Technically,” she said, her voice soft but clear, “a nightmare.”
Ivor’s steady gait faltered for just a mont. His usually impassive face betrayed a flicker of surprise as he glanced up at her towering fra, the wagon creaking faintly as it swayed behind her. “Really?”
Vivienne’s molten-black eyes glinted with a touch of amusent as she adjusted the pace of her trot. “Well,” she continued with a faint, toothy grin, “maybe more nightmare-adjacent. I haven’t actually seen any other nightmares yet, so I’m mostly just going by what Rava told .” Her tongue, long and darker than shadow, flicked out for a mont, almost as if punctuating her statent.
Ivor adjusted the strap of his satchel, his boots crunching softly against the dirt path. He didn’t look entirely convinced. “I’ve seen nightmares before,” he said evenly, his sharp eyes scanning her for any reaction. “They’re not like you.”
Vivienne slowed just enough for the wagon’s hitch to jostle slightly, her head tilting with an almost canine curiosity. “Not like ?” she echoed, her tone sweet but with an unmistakable edge. “Oh, Ivor, you flatter .”
His gaze lingered on her, the faintest crease forming at the corners of his eyes as if he were piecing together a puzzle. “You don’t act like them either.” He added, his tone cautious.
Vivienne stopped abruptly, her claws digging into the dirt as the wagon behind her groaned to a halt. The sudden stillness made the air feel heavier, the gentle rustle of the steppe grasses the only sound as she turned her massive lupine head toward Ivor. Her sharp grin revealed rows of unnervingly pointed teeth, her molten-black eyes gleaming with a predatory, yet strangely playful light.
“Would you prefer I did?” she asked, her voice dripping with false sweetness, her tone lilting like a bard weaving an eerie tale. “Should I make sure every night you’re plagued by every terror I can dredge from your mind, the kind that crawls beneath your skin and whispers in your ears? So vivid, so real, that even when you wake up, you can still feel the cold breath on your neck? Should I leave you more exhausted each dawn than when you first closed your eyes?”
Ivor’s brow furrowed, his jaw tightening. He didn’t step back, though the tension in his posture betrayed him. “I suppose not,” he said finally, his voice low and cautious.
“See?” Vivienne replied with a toothy grin, her tone bright and disarming, as though she hadn’t just painted a vivid portrait of psychological tornt. “I’m not just a nightmare; I’m a very nice nightmare.”
She winked—or did sothing akin to it, her lupine features making the gesture ambiguous—and resud her steady pace. The wagon lurched forward with a groan as her powerful form pulled it along once more.
The camp was a cluster of organized chaos amidst the sprawling expanse of the steppe. Golden grass rippled under the fading light, the sun dipping below the horizon in a blaze of warm amber and dusky violet. The group had worked thodically to establish their temporary refuge: the wagon circled against the breeze, the fire crackling at the center, its smoke curling lazily into the endless sky.
Vivienne’s lupine form shifted as she stood by the fire, her towering fra gradually compacting. Her fur receded, obsidian scales shimred in the firelight, and claws were replaced with more delicate fingers as she reverted to her humanoid form. She’d taken it upon herself to cook, her claws deftly slicing and stirring with surprising finesse. The aroma of spiced at and simring vegetables wafted through the air, mingling with the earthy scent of the steppe.
The others gathered around as she served the al, bowls of hearty stew passed from hand to hand. Ivor gave her a curt nod of approval after the first bite, and even Kivvy’s typical wariness lted into enthusiastic praise between mouthfuls. Renzia, ever silent, tilted her featureless head as if in quiet acknowledgnt.
“Better than Ivor’s stew,” Kivvy declared with a smirk, earning a flat glare from the man.
Vivienne chuckled softly, brushing a stray lock of her wavy hair behind a horn. “High praise, darling. I aim to please.”
When the bowls were emptied and the fire burned lower, Vivienne stepped back from the gathering. She gave a small wave before moving beyond the circle of firelight, allowing Rava to approach and secure the ward.
An hour later, Rava erged from the shimring barrier, the faint hum of its protective magic now a comforting presence in the air. She moved toward Vivienne, her gait slower than usual but steady.
“Hey,” Rava said, her voice low but carrying an unmistakable warmth.
Vivienne turned, her expression softening at the sight of her companion.
“Thank you for looking after ,” Rava continued, her ears twitching faintly.
Vivienne’s lips curled into a gentle smile, the edges of her sharp, obsidian-black eyes softening. She nodded, her voice calm yet tinged with a sincerity that didn’t need words to reinforce it.
“You are very welco, sweetheart. But Elira did most of the work.” she murmured after a mont, her voice carrying the faintest hint of playfulness to lighten the mont.
Rava eased herself onto the cool, dry ground beside Vivienne, the soft rustle of grass accompanying her movent. Without hesitation, she slung a muscular arm over Vivienne’s shoulders, tugging the nightmare into her side with a casual, almost protective gesture. The firelight from the camp danced across their forms, highlighting the contrast between Rava’s earthy resilience and Vivienne’s otherworldly elegance.
“I wanted to talk about sothing,” Rava began, her voice steady, though tinged with an uncharacteristic hint of hesitance.
Vivienne giggled softly, the sound high and lilting, a stark contrast to the weight in Rava’s tone. The lekine warrior furrowed her brow, tilting her head to study the nightmare. “Why is that funny?”
“‘We need to talk.’ ‘I have sothing I need to say.’ ‘I want to talk about sothing.’” Vivienne mimicked in a teasing, singsong tone before giggling again. “Those phrases used to terrify . They’d set my heart racing, my palms sweating. I’d get so anxious I could barely function. But now?” She shrugged lightly, her clawed hand gesturing vaguely. “Not a trace. It’s... refreshing, honestly.”
Rava raised an eyebrow, though her lips twitched into a faint smile. “I see,” she said, shaking her head slightly. “It’s nothing too serious, but when we were fighting earlier, I noticed sothing strange. My aether pool—it was far larger than it should’ve been.”
Vivienne tilted her head, her expression curious. “Is that... bad?”
Rava chuckled, the sound deep and rich. “Getting stronger is never a bad thing. Constant improvent—that’s my goal. One day, I might even asure up to Mother, assuming I live that long.” Her smile faded slightly, replaced by a thoughtful look. “But I ntion it because I think it’s connected to you.”
Vivienne’s brows arched. “Really?”
“Yeah.” Rava nodded, her ears twitching faintly as she considered her next words. “You’ve pulled aether from the air and filtered it into a few tis now. I’m not certain it’s the only reason, but my enchantnts—my strength—felt far greater than they’ve ever been before. It was like... everything was supercharged.”
The night around them was quiet, the distant hum of insects and the gentle whisper of the wind through the tall grasses the only sounds. Vivienne leaned into Rava’s side, her dark eyes glittering thoughtfully in the firelight. “Well,” she said after a mont, her lips curving into a sly smile, “if I’m the reason you’re becoming even more unstoppable, then I’d say I’m doing my job as a ‘very nice nightmare,’ wouldn’t you agree?”
Rava chuckled again, the deep rumble of her voice blending with the crackle of the campfire. Her arm tightened around Vivienne’s shoulders in a brief, affectionate squeeze before she leaned down, aiming to plant a casual peck on the nightmare’s head. Instead, her cheek collided unceremoniously with one of Vivienne’s sharp obsidian horns.
Rava jerked back, rubbing at her cheek with a low grumble. “You know,” she muttered, the corners of her lips twitching despite herself, “I’m starting to think I preferred you without horns.”
Vivienne gasped in mock offense, her hand flying to her chest as if Rava’s words had dealt her a mortal wound. “How dare you!” she exclaid, her voice laced with exaggerated indignation. She tilted her head, letting the firelight catch the crystalline gleam of her spiraling horns. “I’ll have you know I think I look rather fetching with them. They add an air of mystery, don’t you think?”
Rava smirked, her tail flicking lazily behind her. “An air of hazard is more like it. I’m lucky you didn’t gouge my eye out.”
Vivienne turned her head toward her, the glow of her eyes catching in the firelight. Her lips curved into a playful smirk. “Well, perhaps you should be more careful where you aim your affections, darling.”
Rava’s laughter softened, her head tilting as she regarded Vivienne with an expression that hovered sowhere between exasperation and fondness. Before Vivienne could tease her again, Rava leaned in, catching her lips in a brief but deliberate kiss.
When they pulled back, Vivienne’s smile was warm, her teasing deanor giving way to sothing more genuine. “So,” she began, her tone light, “how long until we reach Duskvale—or whatever it’s called?”
Rava leaned back on her palms. “Another few days of travel,” she replied, her voice tinged with the faint weariness of soone already preparing for what lay ahead. “Once we’re there, we’ll need to gather information about Tarric’s whereabouts—or at least find another clue to point us in the right direction.”
“You seem anxious to see him,” Vivienne said, her voice softer now.
Rava sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly. “I am. It’s been over a year since he wandered off.” She paused, as if debating whether to say more, then added, “Tarric’s always been... different. Brilliant, yes, but restless. He’s not the type to stay still for long, but this ti—” She trailed off, her brow furrowing.
“This ti feels different,” Vivienne finished for her, her voice laced with understanding.
Rava nodded. “Exactly.”
Vivienne studied her for a mont, then tilted her head. “Why do we need to find him anyway? What makes him so important to this war?”
Rava’s jaw tightened, her gaze hardening as she glanced at Vivienne, her voice resolute but laced with an undercurrent of emotion. “Tarric isn’t just important to the war. He’s vital. He’s a prodigy like no other. The best exomancer our family’s ever had—certainly—and maybe the best in all of Nymoria right now. He’s traveled further than most, even venturing deep into the Sovereignty. That alone makes his knowledge invaluable; the clans rarely risk going there. The humans in the Sovereignty treat anyone who isn’t human like dirt, so any insight from within their borders is a rare and precious thing.”
Her expression softened slightly as her gaze drifted toward the horizon. “If anyone can turn the tide of this ss, it’s him. But...” Rava hesitated, her voice lowering to a murmur. “It’s more than that. He’s my brother. I owe it to him to make sure he’s safe.”
Vivienne nodded quietly, her sharp grin replaced by a pensive expression. They sat in a companionable silence for a while, the sounds of the waking steppes filling the air around them. Finally, Vivienne broke the quiet. “Will you be fighting in this war?”
Rava’s response was imdiate, her tone firm. “Without question. Aegis wants to strip everything from the clans—their traditions, their autonomy—and enforce their own twisted version of ‘order.’” She scoffed, her lips curling in distaste. “They’d crush our freedoms and leave everyone who isn’t human beneath their heel. That’s not sothing I can stand by and let happen.”
Vivienne’s mischievous grin returned, a glimr of humor lighting her dark eyes. “Well, I suppose I’ll need to accompany you, darling. Soone has to keep an eye on you, especially after your little... performance the other day. Can’t have you getting yourself into more trouble, can we?”
Rava smirked, though the amusent in her expression didn’t entirely mask the weight of their conversation. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet, here you are, suffering ,” Vivienne quipped, leaning back with a lazy, almost indifferent shrug, her long claws clicking faintly against the rock she rested on.
Rava chuckled softly, shaking her head in mock exasperation. “You’re lucky I don’t scare easily.” She paused, exhaling slowly. “So, just like that, you’ll accompany into battle?”
“Why not?” Vivienne’s tone was light, as if Rava had suggested a casual stroll instead of marching into war. Her black eyes glead with a predatory sharpness, her tail swishing lazily behind her. “I was given the vaguest of missions, and this seems to be part of said plans I’m ant to disrupt.” A hint of a smirk tugged at her lips. “Plus, think of all the food there. I’m sure those under the Serkoth banner won’t mind if I eat their enemies.”
Rava blinked, caught off guard by the casual ntion of food. “Food?”
Vivienne tilted her head, regarding Rava as though the question didn’t make sense. “Yes. You know, sustenance. The spoils of war. Corpses.” She made a small gesture with her claws, as if it were obvious. “If you’re going to fight, it seems wasteful not to make use of what’s left behind.”
Vivienne shrugged. “It’s just practical. Why waste energy carrying rations when there’s plenty lying around after a battle?" Her claws tapped idly against her thigh as she leaned against a nearby rock, utterly relaxed despite the grim nature of her words.
Rava didn’t answer imdiately, her amber eyes fixed on the ground as though lost in thought. She knew Vivienne wasn’t joking—Vivienne rarely joked about matters like this. It wasn’t just that her companion had shed much of her humanity; it was that Vivienne didn’t seem to think it was worth holding onto in the first place.
A cold wind swept across the rocky plain, carrying the faint scent of rain. Rava pulled her cloak tighter, the chill biting at her fur, though it wasn’t just the wind that made her uneasy. After a long pause, she broke the silence. "Do you ever miss it?"
Vivienne tilted her head, curious. "Miss what?"
"Being human," Rava said, her voice low, almost cautious. "Not just in form, but... in how you see the world. People. Life."
A flicker of sothing unreadable crossed Vivienne’s face, but it was gone before Rava could place it. "Not really," she said after a mont. "Humanity is fragile. Too many fears, too many doubts. I feel so free now.”
Rava exhaled slowly, her breath visible in the cold air.
"Besides, it’s not like I’ve cut myself off from everything. I enjoy things. I enjoy you." Her tone was teasing, but there was an edge to it—a challenge hidden beneath her words.
Rava narrowed her eyes, unsure how to respond. She wasn’t afraid of Vivienne, not exactly, but there were monts—like now—when she couldn’t ignore the fact that her companion viewed the world through a lens entirely unlike her own.
"You’ve got a strange way of showing it," Rava muttered, though her voice lacked its usual bite. Another pause stretched between them, heavy and awkward. Finally, Rava glanced up, fixing Vivienne with a steady look. "Do you... ever see as food?"
Vivienne’s grin faltered, the teasing edge replaced by sothing quieter, more serious. She didn’t shy away from Rava’s gaze, eting her amber eyes head-on with a blunt honesty that made the air between them feel even colder. "Sotis," she admitted, her tone devoid of humor. "When I get really, really hungry."
Rava tensed slightly, but Vivienne raised a clawed hand in a placating gesture before continuing. "That’s part of why I don’t really sleep. I don’t really need to, but more importantly, it gives ti to hunt aetherbeasts in the dark. A lot of them seem more active then during the day, so night’s my best chance to… stay focused."
There was no malice in her words, only a detached practicality. For Vivienne, hunger wasn’t just a bodily need—it was tied to sothing deeper, more primal. The line between friend and prey wasn’t one she crossed lightly, but it was thin enough to warrant vigilance on her part.
Rava processed the response in silence, the tension in her shoulders easing, though her expression remained guarded. She knew Vivienne wasn’t trying to be cruel; it was simply how she existed now, far removed from the instincts and emotions that guided most people. Still, hearing it aloud brought a weight she wasn’t entirely prepared for.
"You could’ve lied, you know," Rava said after a mont, her voice soft but firm. "Spared the unsettling truth."
Vivienne shrugged, her tail flicking lazily behind her, the obsidian blade at its tip gleaming faintly in the shifting light. "Would you rather I lied?" she asked, her voice calm, devoid of malice but carrying the weight of her nature—unapologetic, matter-of-fact. "I prefer honesty when possible, for better or for worse. A painful truth always hurts less than a backstabbing lie."
Her tone was steady, but there was a subtle undercurrent in her words, as if she spoke from experience. For Vivienne, lies weren’t just deceptive; they were dangerous. They corroded trust, dulled instincts, left one vulnerable when it mattered most. And vulnerability, in her world, ant death.
She glanced sidelong at Rava, who was still regarding her with a mix of wariness and sothing else—perhaps respect, or maybe just curiosity. "Besides," Vivienne added, her lips quirking into a faint smirk, "I figured you’d appreciate knowing exactly where you stand. I’ve always found it easier to deal with things head-on."
The flick of her tail mirrored the easy confidence in her posture, but beneath it lay sothing sharper. Vivienne didn’t offer reassurances, nor did she sugarcoat her words. That wasn’t her style. What she offered instead was certainty—an unspoken promise that whatever storm lay ahead, she would face it without pretense or deceit.
A small smile tugged at the corner of Rava’s lips, despite herself. "Fair point. Though it’s still unsettling."
"Unsettling keeps you alive," Vivienne said simply, her black eyes glinting in the pale afternoon light. "But you don’t need to worry, Rava. You’re not just so al to . You’re… important."
Rava raised a brow. "Important?"
Vivienne’s grin returned, a hint of playfulness creeping back into her expression. "Invaluable, even. It’s hard to find soone who can suffer this much without breaking."
Rava snorted, shaking her head. "And here I thought I was the reckless one."
"You are," Vivienne said with a laugh, "but you’re also stubborn enough to keep grounded."
Rava laughed again, the sound softer this ti, like a release of tension she hadn’t realized she was holding. “You really are sothing else,” she murmured, shaking her head. Her gaze flickered toward the campfire, where the others were finishing their tasks. The warmth in her expression dimd slightly, replaced by a more practical deanor.
“I should get so sleep,” she said, rising to her feet and brushing the dust from her pants.
Vivienne tilted her head, her lupine eyes gleaming under the moonlight. “Leaving all alone out here?” she teased, her voice carrying a lodramatic lilt.
“You’ll survive,” Rava retorted with a smirk, though her tone was kind. She glanced back at the camp, her expression softening. “I need to rest properly. The fight took more out of than I thought, and I need to be at my best when we reach Duskvale.”
Vivienne’s grin didn’t falter. “Of course, sweetheart. Go curl up in your magical bubble and dream of .”
Rava rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a chuckle. She placed a hand briefly on Vivienne’s shoulder, her grip firm yet affectionate. “Keep watch and don’t let your mischief get the better of you.”
“Who, ?” Vivienne said, feigning innocence.
Rava gave her a knowing look before turning away and heading toward the ward’s boundary. She stepped through the shimring barrier, her silhouette briefly illuminated by its soft glow before disappearing into the sheltered area beyond.
Left alone, Vivienne stretched her legs out in front of her, the faint moonlight catching on her dark, crystalline horns and the sharp edges of the obsidian scales along her arms. Her grin lingered, playful and sharp, as her gaze swept over the endless expanse of the steppes. The rolling grasslands shimred under the silver glow of the moon, an ocean of gentle waves shifting with the breeze.
She rested her elbow on her knee, propping her chin in her palm as a low hum escaped her lips. The restless energy coursing through her refused to settle, her mind flitting between thoughts like a bird hopping from branch to branch. Her tail swayed lazily behind her, its blade-tip glinting faintly in the starlight, as if reflecting her own quiet anticipation.
The sun hung low over the steppes, casting long shadows across the rolling grasslands as Vivienne trudged ahead, the creak of the wagon’s wheels mingling with the rustling of dry grass. She glanced back at Elira, her curiosity piqued by the woman’s calm, almost serene presence. The unchanging monotony of their surroundings made conversation a welco distraction.
“So, what do you do exactly?” Vivienne asked, her voice cutting through the quiet. The harness shifted slightly as she pulled the wagon with effortless strength, her tail flicking behind her in a lazy rhythm. “Are you an archaeologist or sothing?”
Elira blinked, montarily caught off guard by the unfamiliar term. “What is an archaeologist?” she asked, her tone polite but genuinely puzzled.
Vivienne tilted her head, considering how best to explain. “Soone who digs up relics from the past to learn about the people who lived then. You know, figuring out who they were, what they believed in, what they left behind.”
Elira nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. “Then, yes, I suppose I am one—of sorts. Ivor and I have explored many ruins together, searching for remnants of the Fallen, trying to piece together their story.”
Vivienne’s lips curved into a grin, a flash of sharp teeth that she quickly softened, aware that her enthusiasm often ca across a little more... intimidating than intended. “Fascinating!” she said, her voice carrying a genuine excitent. “I’ve always loved reading about history. Anything you can share with ? Hidden cities, ancient wars, maybe sothing dangerous?”
Elira’s eyes flicked toward Vivienne, as if testing her with the question. A faint smile played at her lips, but there was sothing thoughtful—almost distant—in her expression, as though she could see the lost cities in her mind’s eye.
“It’s not just absence,” she said slowly, asuring each word. “Ruins always leave sothing behind. Stone crumbles, wood rots, tal corrodes, but traces remain. These places… they left nothing. No ruins. No debris. Not even scars on the land. It’s as though they were erased.”
Vivienne’s tail flicked once, her pace steady as she hauled the wagon forward, but her curiosity burned brighter. “Erased, huh? Sounds like sothing unnatural.”
“That’s what makes it interesting, isn’t it?” Elira said, her tone light but tinged with a quiet seriousness. “So believe they were taken—swallowed by the aether or hidden by forces we can’t understand. Others say they never existed at all, that they’re just stories to explain gaps in our history.”
Vivienne’s gaze drifted forward, eyes narrowing slightly against the wind. “So you’re saying you’re chasing after myths?”
“Perhaps.” Elira’s smile widened just a fraction. “But isn’t that what every explorer does? Chase stories until they find the truth hidden beneath them?”
Kivvy, sitting on the bench beside Rava with her hands tucked behind her head, snorted softly. “Chasing stories sounds like a fancy way of saying you like running into old traps and dodging angry aetherbeasts.”
Elira chuckled, the sound light and genuine, cutting through the tension like the first hint of dawn after a long night. “You’re not wrong. There’s always risk in ruins, but it’s what keeps things interesting. Stories without danger rarely hold much weight.”
Vivienne tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly as she tugged the wagon along the uneven path. “Well, that explains how you held your own when we dealt with that beacon. You didn’t seem the type to panic.”
Elira gave a modest shrug. “Experience. You explore enough ruins, you learn to keep your head when things go wrong. Sotis it’s traps, sotis aetherbeasts. Occasionally, you run into sothing you can’t na, and all you have are your instincts to go by.”
“That sounds more like recklessness than experience,” Vivienne said, her tone amused but tinged with respect. “Still, you’ve made it this far. I’ll give you that.”
Elira smiled faintly. “Recklessness often leads to experience.”
Behind them, Ivor remained silent, but Vivienne didn’t miss the way his eyes never stopped scanning their surroundings. He moved with the calm precision of soone accustod to danger, yet there was a quiet intensity about him, like a drawn bow waiting to release. She wondered how much of their survival had been due to his vigilance rather than luck or Elira’s supposed experience.
“When did you et Ivor?” asked Vivienne, her tone light, but her gaze steady, watching Elira closely for any subtle reaction.
Elira’s pace didn’t falter, but Vivienne noticed a faint flicker in her expression, a montary pause before the polite smile returned. “It feels like a lifeti ago,” she said breezily, as though brushing off the question. “We’ve been through a lot since then. Ti becos… different when every step could be your last.”
Behind them, Ivor continued walking in silence, his eyes scanning the horizon with practiced ease. He carried himself with a kind of calm vigilance that spoke of experience—not just in combat, but in surviving dangerous places. Vivienne’s gaze flicked between them, noting how Elira’s answer had dodged the heart of the question.
“Must’ve been a morable eting, though,” Vivienne added with a faint smirk, her voice deliberately casual.
Elira offered a slight chuckle, the sound light but a little too rehearsed. “morable in its own way, I suppose. You don’t forget the ones who save your life.” She didn’t elaborate further, her eyes fixed on the path ahead.
Vivienne narrowed her eyes slightly, intrigued by Elira’s evasion. There was sothing in the way she spoke—guarded, asured. Not exactly lying, but definitely withholding.
“So, Ivor…” Vivienne glanced over her shoulder at the silent man, who remained as stoic as ever. “What made you decide to stick with her?”
Ivor didn’t respond imdiately. His gaze remained fixed on the distant horizon, watching for threats only he seed to see. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, steady. “Seed like the right thing to do.”
Vivienne’s tail flicked lazily behind her as she kept her pace. “I get the feeling you don’t do much unless there’s a good reason.”
Ivor’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Depends on what you call a good reason.”
Elira’s laughter ca quickly, almost too quickly, as if to deflect the weight of his words. “He’s always been like that—terse, practical. But don’t let him fool you. He’s got a good heart beneath all that gruffness.”
“Hmm.” Vivienne didn’t press further, but sothing about the interaction felt rehearsed, like a story they’d told before to keep people from asking too many questions. Whatever bond they had, it ran deep, but there was a wall between it and the outside world.
User Comments
0 comments from readers